


Dance Me to the End of Love

by leafingbookstea



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, I'm Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7892437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafingbookstea/pseuds/leafingbookstea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phryne and Jack and one last dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance Me to the End of Love

* * *

Phryne put her arm in Jack’s as they walked to the ship’s ballroom together. He looked so dapper in a tuxedo. She had thought so from the first time she saw him in one, the night of the Ruddy Gore performance. The one he was currently wearing was exceptionally well cut, thanks to the tailors on Savile Row.

He had come after her, of course. Their reunion in London was joyous and passionate. They remained in her hotel, her parents having returned to the countryside. They stayed in the city through her birthday and Christmas to sail on a French vessel, the SS Asia, at the New Year. They celebrated their newly declared love and each other, by day as they wandered London’s dirty streets, and by night (and most times the next morning) between the silken sheets of their bed.

Jack took Phryne’s hand in his and kissed it softly, holding her gaze. She looked as elegant as ever, the emerald green dress she wore highlighted her blue eyes. He returned her hand to his bicep and opened the door to the ballroom.

A man in a familiar hotel uniform, not the uniform of the SS Asia’s crew, greeted them. He bowed formally and crossed to a table next to a gramophone and selected a record from the stack.

“Miss Fisher. Inspector.” The uniformed man said, “We have been waiting for you. Please come in, the dance floor is yours.”

A waltz began to play and Jack took Phryne in his arms and led her on to the floor. It was then they both noticed the odd surroundings and people. The ballroom seemed considerably smaller than it had on previous evenings. The people were oddly dressed and standing around idly, not talking to each other. The faces were vague, all familiar, but not enough to jog either of Jack or Phryne’s memory.

“Phryne, does this …”

“Seem familiar? Yes, Jack, it does, but I am not sure why.”

“This doesn’t look like the ballroom on board ship,” Jack continued, “and why a record player and not the orchestra?”

“And the people,” Phryne nodded, seeing others joining them on the dance floor, their faces all known to them both but their identities still elusive.

Each couple danced with each other as if dancing with strangers, formal and at a distance, while Jack and Phryne danced as they always did, slow and close. The music continued for some minutes before awareness dawned on Phryne’s face.

“Jack!” Phryne exclaimed, looking over Jack’s shoulder at the uniformed man who greeted them, “isn’t that Frank McNabb, the concierge?”

“Impossible,” Jack replied, turning in the direction of Phryne’s gaze and taking in his surroundings again, “that would make this…”

“The Grand Hotel” they said together.

The music stopped and Frank put on another record, a soft melody that was neither a waltz nor a foxtrot. The dancers all stopped their motions and stood around them. Each face looking back at them as recognition dawned on the pair. Here was Belinda Roswell, and Louisa Singleton, Gwilym Evans, and Saul Michaels.  
So many others, their faces as they were in life, even though Phryne and Jack had only looked on them in death.

Frank approached the center of the Grand Hotel ballroom. “Inspector. Miss Fisher.” He repeated his earlier greeting and bow. “We have each come here to do one thing, to say ‘thank you’. Because you never gave up on your investigations, our murderers were found and our souls could be at peace. “

The people around them, who had been so quiet, began to express their gratitude, one at a time. Some taking Jack’s hand and shaking it, others hugging Phryne. Frank was the last to approach them.

“This is not the last part of your journey, merely a station stop. Please go through the doors behind you and continue on to your final destination.” Frank pointed to a set of double doors that had not been there before.

Jack turned to Phryne and kissed her. The kiss was salty, whether from her tears or his he couldn’t be sure. They held hands and opened the doors together. The faces they saw on the other side were instantly familiar: their uncles, Edward and Ted, Arthur and Janey, and Jack’s parents; William and Violet.

* * *

 

Hugh Collins looked at the Argus headline that morning in disbelief.

TRAGEDY ON THE SS ASIA, ALL HANDS LOST.

He lowered the paper and looked at his wife. Her eyes were fixed on the telegram in her hand.

DOT

JACK AND I ARRIVING SATURDAY THE 17TH SS ASIA STOP  
LOOKING FORWARD TO GOING HOME AT LAST STOP

LOVE, PHRYNE

**Author's Note:**

>  _Notes: While going through some notebooks recently, I found a snippet of an idea for a story. It was not a Phrack fic, but I thought it would fit. It has been in my head for about a week now and needed to come out so I can write other things. The title comes from the Leonard Cohen song._  
>  Thank you for reading this, I am ever grateful. Now please read something extra fluffy after this, ok?


End file.
